


Dirigible Plums (alternate version)

by cait_stewart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Birth, Both are pregnant, Come Inflation, Dom/sub Undertones, He Didn't Know He Was Pregnant, Impregnation, Inflated Belly, Inflation, Light Sadism, M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mpreg, Mpreg Harry, Mpreg Snape, Mutual Masturbation, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnancy Progress, Secret pregnancy, Surprise babies, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teen Pregnancy, Teenage Pregnancy, Triplets, Twins, belly inflation, birth kink, birth scene, mentions of mpreg, trickery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2019-11-04 14:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17900165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cait_stewart/pseuds/cait_stewart
Summary: Dirigible means blimp, Harry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dirigible Plums](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17824292) by [cait_stewart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cait_stewart/pseuds/cait_stewart). 



> This is an adapted version of a story of mine that originally featured an apparently very unpopular pairing.

Potter looked very uncomfortable, which meant that he probably had gone and actually followed Snape's advice. Snape, delighted, worked very hard to keep a straight face throughout the lesson.

“Potter – a word,” he said, as the other students filed out of the classroom. Potter glared at him from behind his desk. Snape grinned as he walked up to him. 

“You knew perfectly well what was going to happen to me,” said Potter, hotly. “You did it on purpose.” 

“Let me see.” 

“You're a pervert, sir,” said Potter, stifling a small burp. Snape didn't deny the accusation. 

“Let me see or I shall have to send you to the nurse,” he threatened coolly, playing with his wand. 

Potter sighed. 

“Not here,” he said, wincing slightly as he pressed a hand to the front of his robes. “In your office.” 

§ 

“So, how many did you eat?” 

“A dozen,” said Potter, locking Snape's door behind him. Snape turned around, shocked. 

“A dozen?” he repeated, equal parts thrilled and terrified. “All at once?” 

“I wanted the fullest effect,” explained Potter, lowering himself gingerly onto Snape's sofa. “ _Mental acuity_ , you promised. God knows I could use some of that. I had actually set out to eat fifteen of them, but I couldn't go through with the plan.” 

“I bet,” said Snape, his cock stirring at the idea of the effect that such a huge quantity of Dirigible Plums would have on Potter's system. “Enough with the teasing, Potter. Show me.” 

Potter looked up, an amused glint in his green eyes. 

“I don't know, _Professor_ ,” he said, smoothing his heavy robes over the concealed object of Snape's obsession. “What do I get in exchange?” 

Snape grinned. 

“You're impossible,” he said, cock heavy and pulsing inside his trousers. “How about a couple of signed permission slips for the Restricted Section? I bet Granger would appreciate those.” 

“Five,” said Potter, his legs splayed to accomodate his condition. “At the very least.” 

“All right, but take off your clothes, quick.” 

“Deal,” said Potter, and he started undoing his robes. The effect of the Plums was immediately evident even through his shirt and cardigan, and Snape nearly came in his pants then and there. 

Potter paused. 

“It's still getting bigger,” he remarked, running his hands over his hugely bloated stomach. “My shirt buttoned fine this morning.” 

“It generally reaches its peak about a day from the moment of ingestion,” explained Snape. “Both the mental acuity and the... the _other_ effect. And then of course you have to allow another few hours for the, er, expulsion phase.” 

Potter rolled his eyes. 

“Looking forward to that,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Diamonds of pale, overstreched skin were visible through the gaps between the buttons of his shirt. “And the other boys in my dormitory, too! I bet they'll be thrilled.” 

“You can spend the night here,” suggested Snape, his mouth dry with desire. “I'll let you have my bed.” 

“You get off on _that_ , too?” said Potter, incredulously. “Very well, I'll stay here until this thing has gone down properly. In exchange, I want ten permission slips.” 

“Whatever you want,” promised Snape. “Just take off your shirt already, you bloody tease.” 

Potter's overinflated belly looked preposterous in the bright morning light of Snape's office, jutting out from beneath the young man's lean chest and swelling hugely over his lap. Potter rapped his fingers demonstratively on the tight surface: it sounded hollow, like a drum. Snape licked his lips. 

“Get up,” he ordered. “I want to see you properly.” 

Potter, for once in his life, obeyed promptly. On his feet, shirtless as he was, he genuinely looked pregnant. Snape embraced him from behind, his erection pressed against the young man's backside, exploring his swollen form hungrily with his hands. Potter's belly groaned and creaked audibly. 

“Here,” said Potter, in a pained voice, guiding Snape's hands to the distended underside of his gut. “Rub it. It hurts.” 

Snape obliged, pressing his palm into his pupil's bloated organ to try and work some of the gas out of his cramped insides. Potter moaned. 

“Lower,” he pleaded, rubbing himself against Snape's painfully hard cock. “Please.” 

Snape undid Potter's trousers, freeing his erection. With one hand still on his inflated stomach, he grabbed the young man by his cock and guided him to a mirror, so that he could admire the results of his ruse: Harry Potter, trousers around his ankle, belly so full of air that he could barely fuction, begging to be brought to orgasm. His knees felt weak. 

“You look incredible like this, Potter,” he said, meeting Potter's beautiful eyes in the mirror. “Do you know that?” 

“I'm huge,” moaned Potter, rubbing his gigantic stomach. “You've made me huge.” 

“I did,” confirmed Snape, stroking Potter's cock. “And you're going to get even bigger, just you wait.” 

Potter moaned again. For all his earlier protests, he seemed to be greatly enjoying this particular activity. Snape intensified the pace of his stroking. 

“Imagine you're pregnant, Potter,” he whispered, supporting Potter's swollen stomach with his free hand. “Imagine having to hide this huge thing from all your mates, day after day.” 

“I wouldn't let you do that to me,” mumbled Potter, unconvincingly, pressing himself harder against Snape erection. “I wouldn't let you get me pregnant, sir.” 

“I think you would, actually,” said Snape, bending slightly to kiss Potter's neck. “You'd let me fill you up with my babies, Potter, and you would love every minute of it.” 

“Hhhng,” moans Potter, spurting all over Snape's hand and the bottom of his own belly. Snape holds him close to his chest, delighted by the look of bliss on the young man's handsome face. 

“Excellent work, Potter,” he said, patting Potter's bloated belly. “Now come to bed, it's my turn.”


	2. Chapter 2

Potter groaned and let out a resounding fart. His belly, although much smaller than it had been just a couple of hours earlier, was still massively bloated, enough to visibly tent Snape's bedsheets.

“Remind me never to listen to you again,” he said, leaning back against his pillow. “This bloody thing is going to keep me up all night.” 

Snape faked a yawn. 

“Not necessarily,” he said, patting the young man's tantalizingly distended abdomen. “You could take a sleeping potion and let things settle on their own.” 

Potter farted again. 

“I don't think I trust your potions.” 

Snape shrugged. 

“Suit yourself,” he said, with a hint of a smirk. 

§ 

The sleeping potion Potter ended up accepting was the strongest in Snape's personal reserve, powerful enough to guarantee the exhausted pupil a full, uninterrupted night of sleep in spite of any potential disturbance. Once he had fallen asleep, Snape wasted no time setting his plan into motion. 

The incantation was an ancient one, complicated even for a wizard as skilled as he was. The glorious spectacle of Potter's naked, inflated form provided an additional, if welcome, distraction. 

_What I wouldn't give to fuck you now..._ he thought, gently prying Potter's legs apart to look at his pristine, virginal hole. But he mustn't. He knew he mustn't. He wanted the young man to ask for it, to _beg_ , even – and besides, time was scarce, and he had a very important task to attend to before dawn. 

§ 

In the morning Potter's stomach was back to its usual state, if a bit sore. 

“Did I keep you up all night?” he asked, alluding the bags under Snape's eyes. “Suits you well.” 

“Get dressed, Potter,” said Snape, deliberately cold. “And get out of here, I have a class to teach in half an hour.” 

Potter looked taken aback. 

“All right,” he said, gathering his things. “No need to tell me twice.” 

§ 

Ignoring Potter – and the progressively outrageous ways in which the young man tried to get his professor's attention – was both hard and entertaining. For a full three weeks, Snape managed to remain ostensibly insensible to everything his pupil threw his way, be it bouts of appalling behaviour or transparent attempts at renewed seduction. Potter, he could tell, was growing more and more frustrated – which meant that Snape's plan was working exactly as intended. 

“Professor,” said Potter, in a coquettish tone that Snape had never suspected him to be capable of. “Can I talk to you?” 

“What's the matter, Potter?” asked Snape, without looking up from the exam papers he had just collected. The empty classroom was warm in the hot June sunlight, but out of the corner of his eyes he could see that Potter was wearing his heavy robes. The notion thrilled him. 

Potter stepped closer to Snape's desk. 

“It's my stomach, sir,” he said, in a low voice that went directly to Snape's cock. “It's been bothering me.” 

§ 

“You ate the rest of the Dirigible Plums, didn't you?” said Snape, carefully pressing into the naked surface of Potter's teardrop shaped belly. “There's nothing wrong with you, you're just full of air.” 

“I did,” admitted Potter, smiling seductively from Snape's sofa. He was pushing his stomach out, Snape noticed, and arching his back. “I knew you'd get a kick out of it, sir.” 

“But what about you, Potter?” said Snape, letting his hand stray lower. “Have you perhaps grown to enjoy the whole thing as well?” 

“I've been thinking, sir,” said Potter, eluding the question. His cock was hard inside his trousers. “About something we've never gotten around to trying.” 

“And what would that be, Potter?” said Snape, rubbing the young man's erection through the fabric. “Tell me.” 

§ 

“I've been dreaming about this, sir,” sighed Potter, on all fours, in a tone so unlike his usual impertinent one that Snape briefly wondered if the whole thing was actually happening or was just a dream. “I want to feel you inside me.” 

“I hope you realize we're crossing a line here, Potter,” said Snape, trying to actually sound concerned while he carefully lined up his erection with Potter's eager hole. “And I dread the thought of what you're going to ask in return.” 

“Nothing!” moaned Potter, wriggling his narrow hips. “Nothing, sir, I promise. I just want – I just _need_ to get fucked, please.” 

“Very well,” said Snape, grinning triumphantly, and he pushed in. 

§ 

“That was glorious,” said Potter, contentendly, vanishing the gobs of come he'd spurted on the underside of his inflated stomach. “I never knew it'd be so enjoyable.” 

“You are very good at this, Potter,” said Snape, brushing the young man's fringe away from his sweaty brow. “You're a natural.” 

Potter smiled – a very unusual sight, completely different from his normal smirk. 

“Can I stay here until my belly goes down? I don't like the idea of, ah, having to fart in front of the other boys.” 

“Surely it's happened before,” teased Snape, caressing Potter's bloated stomach. “In all these years.” 

“Not on this scale,” replied Potter, and he had a point – his belly was nowhere as large as it had been on the night he'd first tried the Plums, but Snape could still feel huge, noisy bubbles of gas moving under his skin, probably on account of the residual Plums having overripened in the meanwhile. A sudden, unpleasant thought occurred to him. 

“Do you think you could hold it in?” he asked, casually, trying to calculate how long it would take for the sperm he'd spurted into Potter's ass to do its job. “Until tomororrow?” 

Potter grinned faintly. 

“You really like the belly on me, don't you, sir?” 

“I do,” confirmed Snape, rubbing the inflated swell possessively. “I really do, Potter.” 

§ 

Potter squatted in the corner of Snape's room, his normally pale face red and sweaty, his naked belly swollen between his legs. Every few seconds, he let out a groan: he was having terrible gas pains, enough to shatter his usual composure. Snape felt quite guilty about enjoying the spectacle as much as he was. 

“Can I let it out, sir?” pleaded Potter, sounding miserable. “My stomach hurts terribly.” 

“Wait a few more minutes, Potter,” said Snape from the bed. “You just need to relax and wait for the potion to work.” 

“If you said so,” said Potter, through gritted teeth. It had been a few hours, most of them spent with Potter safely on his back, which meant that Snape's sperm had probably already had time to travel to its destination – but Potter's initial willingness to hold his gas in for the sake of catering to Snape's erotic predilections had simply been too delightful to pass on, so he had offered him a numbing potion instead, accompanied by the promise of another thorough shag if he made it to the dawn with his belly still fully bloated. Potter, Snape knew, was starting to regret the deal. 

“Come here,” he said, patting the mattress. “You're making it harder on yourself by squatting.” 

Potter dragged himself to the bed, one hand supporting his teardrop-shaped stomach. A small fart squeaked out of him as he climbed on top of the mattress. He winced. 

“I'm sorry,” he said, glancing sideways at Snape. “It's beyond my control.” 

“Don't worry, Potter” said Snape, with a grin, producing a small plug out of thin air. “I have something here to help you win your wager.” 

Potter, against his better judgement, moaned his assent.


	3. Chapter 3

Potter, who had always been slim to begin with, looked like he had lost a fair bit of weight over the summer. The idea saddened Snape, until he realized that his pupil's gaunt appearance might simply be due to a bad case of morning sickness.

“Your shirt's untucked, Weasley, five points from Gryffindor. Potter, see me after class.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Potter, and Snape had to glare at him to remind him to roll his eyes for the sake of appearances. 

§ 

“How was the summer, Potter?” asked Snape, locking his office door behind them. “You look like you barely got fed.” 

Potter made a face. 

“I was unwell a lot,” he said, without elaborating. “But I'm feeling better now.” 

“Get undressed,” ordered Snape, unable to restrain himself further. Potter tried to play it cool, but his excitement was transparent. Snape waited with bated breath for the moment of truth. 

Potter's lower abdomen, now visible through the young man's unbuttoned shirt, protruded slightly but surely from his otherwise bony torso. Excitement and pride flooded Snape's brain. 

“I've been waiting for this moment, Potter,” he said, studying the compact bulge that he hoped was housing his offspring. Potter was now in his third month of pregnancy, assuming everything had gone according to plan: all things considered, he was already showing quite unmistakeably. 

“Sir, I was thinking,” said Potter, evidently aware of his professor's hungry gaze. “Do you think we could get our hands on some more of those Plums?” 

“It could be arranged,” said Snape. “Or we could try... _other_ things.” 

“Like what, sir?” asked Potter, arching his back seductively. 

“I could blow you up myself,” said Snape, amused by the effort Potter was putting into making his small belly stand out. “There are spells that I could use to make you _huge_ , Potter.” 

“Please,” said Potter, his erection gigantic under the swell of his unwittingly pregnant stomach. “Please.” 

§ 

Snape wasn't used to manouvering around his augmented testicles and Potter's hole had resumed his virginal tightness over the summer, so it took a while for things to line up properly, but when they did – it was absolute, utter bliss. 

“I've missed you,” admitted Snape, watching in fascination as his sizeable erection disappeared between Potter's pale buttcheeks. Potter moaned incoherently, his hand working fast on his own cock. Snape, now buried to the hilt in his young lover's arse, reached underneath to caress his small bump. “Let's fill this thing up, shall we?” 

“Please,” begged Potter, once more, and Snape obliged. The way things were going, he thought as he trusted wildly into the tight confines of Potter's arse, none of them was going to last very long – and he was right, for soon Potter came, with a grunt and a spurt of jizz all over Snape's sheets, and immediately after Snape felt the familiar pull of incoming orgasm, and he had no choice but to ride out his own release, wave after wave of sperm splashing into Potter's guts, until at last his stomach had tripled in size and Snape, completely spent, collapsed over Potter's back. 

“Clench,” he advised, before pulling out. “There's a good lad. How does it feel?” 

“Heavy,” commented Potter, carefully turning over. The new, overwhelming fullness of his intestines, Snape noticed, was masking the symptoms of his early pregnancy almost entirely. His belly was oblong, jutting out several inches from his bony chest. “And full, sir.” 

“I bet,” commented Snape, smirking as he jostled the sloshing organ slightly. “I'd wager you have almost a gallon of my spunk in there, Potter.” 

Potter blushed, his cock stirring back to life underneath the great mass of his stomach. 

“It feels very good,” he said, rubbing the distended surface with both hands. “I almost... I almost wish it was permanent.” 

Snape did his best not to grin. 

“Maybe someday,” he said, covering Potter's hands with this own. “Let's enjoy this while it lasts, shall we?” 

§ 

Now midway through his four month of pregnancy, Potter had developed two things: an impressive appetite, and an equally impressive pot belly, proudly sticking out from his otherwise still pretty bony physique. 

“You're filling up,” commented Snape, approvingly, watching the young man towel off after a post-coital bath. “Still fond of treacle tart, are you?” 

Potter grinned. 

“Yeah,” he said, bending down with some difficulty to dry his feet. “But you don't mind, do you?” 

“Quite the opposite, Potter,” said Snape, playfully slapping Potter's pale arse. “Quite the opposite.” 

“You know what else I'm fond of, sir?” said Potter, turning around. 

Snape shook his head. 

“Undo your pants,” said Potter, slowly sinking to his knees, “and I'll show you.” 

§ 

Potter, out of sheer stubborness, made it to five months before finally having to resign from the Gryffindor Quidditch team. 

“I'm too fat to fly,” he lamented, staring sadly at the reflection of his impressively swollen middle. “I can't dive properly with this thing in the way. Maybe I should start cutting down on the sweets.” 

“You're not fat,” said Snape, not unfairly. “You just have a bit of a belly. It looks good on you.” 

“Do you still think so?” 

Potter, for the first time, looked dejected about the whole thing. 

“Of course I do,” said Snape, embracing his pupil from behind. “Can't you tell?” 

Potter pressed himself against Snape's erection, looking thrilled. 

“It's just like that first time with the Dirigible Plums,” he said, rubbing his rounded stomach. 

“Truly. What a throwback!” 

Potter grinned. He was blushing a bit. 

“I even... well, I'm even a bit gassy,” he said, guiding Snape's hand to the front of his secretly pregnant stomach. “Can you tell? I've been feeling these big bubbles of gas for a couple of days now, but then I don't _really_ have to fart, no matter how hard I try. I was almost wondering...” 

“What, Potter?” said Snape, trying not to let his emotions show as he felt the baby move for the first time. 

“Well, if you had spiked my drink somehow, sir. To inflate me again. I wouldn't mind, of course, but it would mean that I could go back to flyi–” 

Snape smirked. 

“Your stomach feels pretty solid this time around, Potter,” he said, supporting the underside of the great swollen dome with his hands. “I'm afraid you're not going to just fart your way out of having a belly, this time around.” 

“I see,” said Potter, less disappointed than Snape would have imagined. “Well, maybe I'll go on a diet next summer, then.” 

§ 

Potter was now six months along, huge, and still oblivious about the whole pregnancy thing. 

“Hermione has been pestering me,” he said, scratching his impressively distended stomach on Snape's sofa. “She says that it's not normal to gain so much weight at once, and that I should talk with Professor Dumbledore.” 

“What about?” said Snape, without looking up from the Defense Against the Dark Arts papers he was grading. “Does Granger fancy Dumbledore a great dietician?” 

Potter snorted. 

“No, obviously, it's not that. She thinks it might be Voldemort's fault, somehow.” 

“And did you tell her that the fault lies with the house elves excellent cooking skills rather than with the Dark Lord's cunning plans, Potter?” 

“Of course,” said Potter, and then he hesitated. “She just... she thinks it might be something Voldemort put _inside_ me, somehow. Related to how he was sort of a baby before he got his body back in the graveyard, or something.” 

_Well below Granger's usual standards,_ thought Snape, amused. _She only got it half right._

“So, Potter,” he said out loud, looking up from the papers in front of him. “Granger's theory is that you're pregnant with the Dark Lord? _By_ the Dark Lord?” 

“Or something like that,” squirmed Potter, clearly embarassed. “It sounds stupid when you say it like that.” 

“Do you _feel_ pregnant, Potter? Mind, you do look like you are.” 

“I don't,” said Potter, sitting with his legs apart to accomodate his swollen, heavy, ball-shaped belly. “I'm not stupid. I'm a _wizard_ , I can't get pregnant. This was just... just a theory.” 

Snape smiled. 

“Glad we've settled this. It would have been quite, ah, hurtful to find out that you've been fooling around with the Dark Lord himself behind my back, Potter.” 

Potter looked away, seemingly quite pleased with Snape's comment. Snape went back to grading his papers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Thoughts? Requests?


	4. Chapter 4

Potter was asleep on his side, the baby kicking up a storm inside his huge stomach. Snape rested his palm against his pupil's taut skin – the young man still had a couple of months left in his pregnancy, but it was becoming hard to imagine that his slender frame would be able to accomodate any further growth.

_And then the birth_ , thought Snape, with a frisson of excitement. The onset of labour – the strenght of the contractions building up hour after hour. The confusion, the denial, the eventual realization. Potter's hole, barely able to accomodate a cock just a few months earlier, stretching hugely to let a child into the world – a very large child, too, judging by the size of his bump. _Their_ child. 

_Soon,_ thought Snape, smiling as he let his hand stray lower along the faint dark line bisecting Potter's swollen belly, _soon we'll meet, child._

§ 

Potter's bellybutton popped in January, when the oblivious young man was approaching his eight month of pregnancy. 

“This is new,” remarked Snape, running his hand over the tiny bump crowning the enormous, torpedo-shaped swell of Potter's belly as the latter was lowering himself gingerly over his professor's impressive erection. 

“It's – uh – yeah,” agreed Potter, grunting as Snape's cock disappeared up his arse. “It's been – ooh, yes – it's been like that for a couple of days now. Do you think there's something -- _oooh_ wrong with me, Sir?” 

Snape smirked. 

“The only thing wrong with you,” he said, arching his back in a slow, deliberate fashion. “Is that I haven't fucked you in two whole days.” 

Potter threw his head back and let out a moan. 

“I agree, Sir,” he panted, reaching under his gigantic belly to grab his own rock-hard cock. “I'm so _horny_ all the time, it's driving me insane.” 

“Are you, now?” 

“Yes,” moaned Potter, touching himself frantically. “Yes, it's never been like this... I think... I think it's because I know how much you like the belly on me, Sir.” 

Snape did his best to keep a straight face. 

“You know what, Potter?” he said, carefully arching himself to hit the young man's prostate with every thrust. “You might be on to something.” 

§ 

Harry was constipated, badly. It was nothing new: over the last few months, most likely due to all the rich food he’d been eating and all the fat he’d been steadily accumulating around his midsection, his intestines hadn’t been cooperative at all. He hadn’t gone to the bathroom in almost a week, and he could swear his huge, torpedo-shaped belly had developed a few additional stretchmarks as a consequence of the additional swelling. 

“You look miserable, mate,” said Ron, looking up from his breakfast plate. “Then again, who could blame you -- we have History of Magic first thing and _then_ double Defense Against the Dark Arts. Ugh, Snape.” 

“Yeah,” agreed Harry, wincing as gas pains shot through his Disillusioned belly. He hated the masking spell -- it was extremely uncomfortable, almost like wearing a sort of corset, but it was the only way to keep Hermione relatively at bay. Not that there was anything illegal about packing on a few pounds, of course, but he and Snape agreed that if she went to Dumbledore with her bizarre theories about Voldemort there was a risk that their… _relationship_ could be exposed, and that would be terrible. 

“You do look unwell, Harry,” piped in Hermione, predictably. The fact that Harry’s stomach had ostensibly shrunken back to a modest potbelly had done little to assuage her suspicions, and she still took every chance to try and persuade him to see Madam Pomfrey. 

“Let him live, Hermione, for goodness’ sake,” said Ron, thickly, through a mouthful of bacon. 

Harry said nothing. As much as he didn’t like the idea of asking for help about something so private, he was beginning to think that his problem wasn’t going to solve itself anytime soon -- and despite the fact that he knew that Snape enjoyed the additional bloating, sex just wasn’t possible in his present state, and that frustrated him hugely. It had been ten days. 

“I’ll go to the infirmary if I still feel poorly after class,” he promised. Hermione nodded approvingly. 

§ 

Harry shouldn’t have worried, it turned out, for his insides got back into gear as soon as he left the breakfast table. It happened so quickly, actually, that he barely managed to make it to the bathroom in time: a sharp cramp, a sudden -- almost unbearable -- shift in pressure, a decent amount of straining and then the sweet, sweet relief of a blissfully empty colon, aided by the release of a huge amount of liquid that came splashing into the toilet bowl. 

Harry wiped and stood up, his legs weak from the effort of relieving himself, and smiled. Now that the way was cleared, so to speak, nothing stood in the way of a nice, long fuck that very evening. Hell, if he played his cards right, Snape might even be persuaded to indulge in a mid-morning quickie -- even since Harry had gotten really fat in the belly, his normally aloof professor had started having trouble controlling himself around him. This suited Harry perfectly. 

§ 

Harry’s stomach continued to ache all through the History of Magic lesson. It was, Harry thought, as if still had to go to the bathroom, which sounded unlikely, given what had happened after breakfast. But then, he had been eating _a lot_ even while he was constipated, so maybe it wasn’t too surprising that his bowels weren’t yet completely empty. 

“See you in Snape’s classroom,” he told Harry and Hermione after class, and he hurried as best as he can -- his centre of gravity had been so off, lately, that the way he moved could be more accurately described as a waddle -- towards the nearest toilet, where he locked himself into a stall and lifted the Disillusionment charm. 

His stomach immediately flopped out in all its glory, and Harry was baffled to notice that it had changed shape since he had last checked it, early that morning. The formerly torpedo-shaped dome now looked oblong, as if he had a watermelon stuck in there. The surface was still taut, despite everything that had come out of him recently, his muscles painfully contracted around the mass he could feel slowly moving towards his rectum. Harry sighed. It looked like he was in no condition to get fucked anytime soon, all things considered. That was disappointing. 

He had ten minutes before his next class, and he spent them straining, to no avail. His stomach cramped up fiercely, his back hurt, his colon felt uncomfortably full, but the mass inside him wouldn’t budge. 

_He would love to see me like this,_ he thought, his mind going back to the times when Snape had left him inflated and plugged up for hours. Despite the pain, his cock perked up at the idea. _Yeah, I really think he would._


	5. Chapter 5

Potter, Snape realized all of a sudden, was almost certainly about to give birth.

About to give birth _in the very middle of his Friday morning DADA class_. 

The thought was scary – surely a public birth would mean a scandal, maybe even the loss of his professorship if it ever emerged that he was to blame for the pregnancy – but at the same time he felt his cock engorge inside his trousers at the idea of what Potter was about to go through. He was extremely grateful for the fact that he was wearing his usual loose, black robes. 

Potter let out a low groan, earning himself a puzzled look from Weasley. The classroom was warm enough, but he was wearing his thickest winter cloak, which Snape took to mean that he had had to lift the Disillusionment charm that had kept that nightmarish Granger at bay over the last couple of months. His face was white as chalk. He toyed with the idea of finding an excuse to make him stand up. 

“Open your books, page 457,” he said instead. “There won't be any need to talk.” 

§ 

Somehow, Potter managed to make it to the end of the class without losing his composure completely. 

“Potter, a word,” said Snape, resisting the urge to look up from his papers to stare at the hugely pregnant young man as the rest of the pupils filed out of the classroom. “Weasley, Granger, _out_.” 

Once the two nuisances had left, Snape locked the door and walked over to Potter's desk. 

“What's the matter with you?” he said, feigning ignorance. “Are you ill?” 

“It's my stomach,” complained Potter through gritted teeth. He was half-sitting, half-lying, his legs splayed to accomodate his enormous gut. The baby's head, Snape decided, was probably sitting too low for him to be able to sit normally. He wondered what he would see if he vanished Potter's trousers right that instant – wondered if the baby's head was bulging out of his arsehole yet. 

“What's wrong with it?” asked Snape, slipping a hand under Potter's cloak to feel his rock-hard belly. “Does it hurt?” 

Potter groaned, tears pooling in his eyes as a contraction racked through him. 

“I think I'm dying,” he whimpered, covering Snape's hand with his own. “It hurts so bad, sir, please make it stop!” 

“You're not dying,” said Snape, matter-of-factly. “That I can guarantee. Why don't we get you out of your clothes so I can take a proper look at you?” 

§ 

Potter's naked belly was grotesquely swollen, almost twice as big as it had been just a few weeks previously. Abandoning all pretences, Snape summoned a camera out of his bag and took a couple of dozens of pictures of the labouring young man from a variety of angles. 

“I'm sorry, but you've never looked sexier than you do now,” he explained, watching approvingly as Potter's erection jumped slightly and left a trail of pre-come on the lower slope of his giant stomach. “All right, now spread your legs. Let me see if there's anything wrong with you.” 

Potter, too exhausted to question Snape's instructions, did as he was told. His arsehole, which Snape remembered as minuscule, pink and pristine, was now spread wide enough to show a glimpse of dark hair – the top of their baby's head, Snape realized with a jolt. It was really happening, finally, and Potter still had _no_ idea at all. 

“Hnnnnnggg,” cried Potter, straining as a new contraction hit him and his arsehole bulged even further. 

His hips were so narrow, Snape thought, and the baby in his belly so big, that it seemed impossible that he could manage to give birth successfully. And yet here he was. Snape kept his wand at the ready, safe in the knowledge that his prodigious skill would allow him to keep both Potter and the baby out of harm's way if need be. Potter pushed again, embarrassment suddendly blooming on his weary face. 

“Sir,” he said in a sheepish voice, “I think I might be about to... I think I need the toilet.” 

“Nonsense,” said Snape, watching in awe as the baby's head began to crown fully. “Just give a good push, Potter.” 

“But I can feel it coming out of... AAAAAAH,” screamed Potter, curling around his enormous belly as a particularly strong contraction forced the baby's head out of his impossibly overstretched arsehole. It was an incredible sight. Snape reached for the camera once again. 

“Sir, what are you... AAAAH! It hurts, it hurts, it burns,” cried Potter, tears streaming down his face as the rest of the baby slipped out of him and into Snape's waiting hand. His erection was as big as Snape had ever seen it, and as soon as the baby's legs were out and the pressure over his prostate subsided he exploded in a massive orgasm, splattering his still gigantic stomach with semen. 

The baby – a boy – started crying. Potter lifted his head, baffled. 

“Did I... is that?” 

“Yes,” confirmed Snape, holding up their son for Potter to see. “You've had a baby, Harry. Our baby.” 

“A baby,” repeated Potter, softly. He looked at once terrified and thrilled. “Can I hold him?” 

§ 

“I still look pregnant,” remarked Potter, a couple of hours later, caressing his swollen stomach pensively. “And I still feel sore.” 

“It's only natural. Your body needs time to go back to how things were before,” said Snape, grateful for the fact that Potter had no way of seeing the current state of his overabused arsehole. “As for the soreness... you've just pushed a whole person out of yourself. It would be strange if you weren't.” 

“I suppose you're right,” said Potter, beaming at the (surprisingly quite tiny) baby, who was currently asleep in his makeshift bassinet. “I still can't believe he was inside me all along, and we had no idea. To think that Hermione was right!” 

Snape smirked. 

“Granger was convinced that you were pregnant with the Dark Lord's baby, I seem to recall. I hope that continues to not be the case.” 

“Of course it's not Voldemort's,” said Potter, his grin turning into a wince. “Oof. This last one was pretty sharp, it almost felt like a contraction. Are we sure the whole, ah, placenta is out?” 

“It is,” assured Snape. “I checked it very carefully. I promise, there's nothing left inside you that isn't supposed to be there.” 

“I can think of a thing that I'd love to have inside of me, come to think of it,” said Potter, with a devious look in his green eyes. “Well, maybe not _right now_ , but as soon as it's feasible.” 

“Don't toy with my emotions, Potter,” sighed Snape, placing a possessive hand on Potter's still tantalizingly distended abdomen. It _was_ still quite hard, which he supposed was due to the young man's magical uterus still needing to shrink down properly. “I'm going to hold you to your word.” 

“Please do,” said Potter, and he slipped his hand down Snape's trousers.


	6. Chapter 6

“Help me up!”

Snape, groggy, opened his eyes. It took him a second to remember where he was and what had happened the previous day. His bedroom was flooded with moonlight. Potter's tone was quite urgent. 

“What's the matter? Is the baby all right?” 

“Yes, yes, I just need the bathroom,” said Potter, clutching his swollen belly under the sheets. “I'm afraid I won't, er, be able to hold it in if I don't hurry.” 

“Oh, right,” said Snape, recalling the state of Potter's hole after the birth of their son – no permanent damage, as far as he could tell, but it had required quite a powerful numbing spell. He got to his feet. “Let me just come to your side of the bed... all right, here we go.” 

Potter's legs were shaking badly, but – Snape realized once he had helped the young man out of bed – that was the last of the young man problems. 

“Why are you standing like that?” he inquired, noticing Potter's absurdly bow-legged posture. “Is something wrong?” 

Potter's face was unreadable. 

“It's just... it's just that... OUCH,” he cried out, his hands cradling the bottom of his big stomach. “I think something's coming out of me, oh God, what could it..” 

“Turn around,” ordered Snape, dropping into a squat. “Bend over a bit. _Lumos!_ ” 

Potter had been right – something was coming out of him, something so unexpected that at first Snape couldn't do anything but gasp. Potter groaned, a long mournful sound, like a wounded animal. Snape stared in shock. 

Hanging out of Potter's fully dilated arsehole, the rim of the opening stretched paper-thin from the circumference of the object longed inside it, was the head of a second baby, its amniotic sac still completely intact. Snape felt light-headed. This was a new level of cluelessness, even for Potter's standards. 

“Harry,” he said, trying to sound soothing. “Harry, you're having _another_ baby.” 

“What?!” 

“It's happening right now, the head is halfway out, I'm not sure how you... do you want to get back into bed?” 

“No,” grunted Potter, spreading his legs further and grabbing onto a bedpost for support. “No, it actually feels better like this, feels like it would be quicke... oh God, oh God, it hurts so bad, why does it hurt so bad?” 

“This baby is bigger,” explained Snape, his eyes moving between the small baby sleeping in his bassinett and Potter's enormous stomach. “It has a much larger head than its brother. But you're doing very well, it's going to be over before you know... OK, Harry, now PUSH! Push as hard as you can!” 

It was a scene Snape wouldn't have dared picture in his wildest fantasies. Potter, his giant, rock-hard belly covered in sweat, straining madly to give birth for the second time in a day, the sac containing their huge baby hanging halfway out of his absurdly dilated arsehole. 

Snape had never been so hard in his entire life. 

“One more push,” he coaxed, taking the emerging baby in his hands. “You're almost done, Harry, it's almost out, just one more... oh, Merlin, I can't believe it!” 

“What?” cried Potter, twisting his head to try and look at Snape. “What's happening? Is there's something wrong with the baby?” 

Snape laughed. 

“There's nothing wrong with any of them!” he explained, watching in complete awe as the feet of the first twin were immediately followed – with barely a wink of Potter's overstretched hole – by the top of the second child's head, still inside the same unbroken amniotic sack. “Harry, it's twins! Well, triplets! No wonder you were so big! Now PUSH!” 

§ 

By the time the last of the babies was out, it was hilariously obvious to both Snape and Potter how wrong they had been about their assessment of the young man's body after the birth of the first baby. 

“Right, _now_ you are empty,” said Snape, carefully palpating his lover's sore but now almost completely deflated stomach. “No more surprise babies, I promise.” 

Potter gave an exhausted grin. 

“Well, not for now, at least.” 

§ 

Potter's stomach never managed to fully shrink back to its original state. 

“Maybe we should have waited,” said Snape, unconvincingly, rubbing the compact bulge of his lover's small potbelly. “The babies won't even be a year old by the time this one comes. We're going to have to hire someone to help Mrs. Young!” 

Potter shrugged. 

“I don't like waiting,” he said, guiding Snape's hand lower. “And I like having a belly, as I think you can tell.” 

“Not as much as I like it,” ventured Snape, grabbing Potter's erection as he used his free hand to spread the young man's legs. Potter's hole, much to everyone's delight, was back to its original tightness. The idea of what it had endured was enough to make Snape feel dizzy with lust. 

“You know what,” said Potter, with an impish look in his beautiful eyes. “I was thinking that maybe we could, ah, switch things up a little. What do you think?” 

Snape blinked. This was all very new, coming from Potter. He eyed the young man's sizeable erection and considered his offer. He couldn't deny the fact that the prospect _did_ sound intriguing... 

“Very well,” he said, a weird tingling sensation radiating from his virginal arsehole as he turned to lie supine. “Have your way with me, then, Potter.” 

“Believe me, sir,” said Potter, winking at Snape as he settled between his teacher's spread legs. “No need to tell me twice.” 

§ 

It was a testament to how little faith Snape had in his lover's magical skills, Harry thought in amusement, that he _still_ didn't suspect anything was amiss. _Sympathy weight_ , he called it, when his protruding stomach became too large for him to fuck Harry in their favourite position. Five months along, almost as big as Harry was at eight, and still completely and utterly oblivious to his condition. 

“I think I should cut back on the Brussel sprouts,” said Snape, rubbing his restless gut pensively. “Tasty as they are, I've been getting a lot of gas recently, it's starting to become annoying. And the bloating! I'm not sure how you cope when you're pregnant, this belly is real pain in the arse. Yes, I'm definitely cutting back on the sprouts.” 

Harry grinned down at his own similarlzy sized stomach. 

“ _Please_ let me know if that ends up working, sir,” he said, his cock perking up inside his pants. “I'm honestly very curious.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks!


End file.
